


Your Bruised Skin and My Bruised Mind

by deebainwonderland



Series: The Child and his Mandalorian [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Yoda Acquisition, Angst, Bruises, Clan of two, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, ManDadlorian, Parent-Child Relationship, post episode 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deebainwonderland/pseuds/deebainwonderland
Summary: The Mandalorian discovers the aftermath of the Child's abduction. His anger and guilt are frightening to behold.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Child and his Mandalorian [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586041
Comments: 24
Kudos: 645





	Your Bruised Skin and My Bruised Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place directly after s1e8. Specifically, after “that scene”, the one that made me (and I’m sure many of you) scream at my TV. Onwards!

The Mandalorian’s breath didn’t steady until the ship was several lightyears away from the place where he'd nearly lost everything. The image of the Child forcing the flames away with his mysterious power played on a loop in his mind. He could still see the flames licking mere inches from his charge. 

It seemed ridiculous that such a small being could hold such unique and massive strength. Din was beginning to suspect that thus far, he'd only witnessed the surface of the infant’s abilities. 

Din turned to glance down at his charge safety in the confines of his cradle. The Child still had the necklace within his grasp and he gnawed on one edge of it, eyes wide with the lasting traces of trauma. 

The baby nearly slipped through his fingers. All the sacrifices, all the fear nearly became obsolete. The Mandalorian almost lost him. Just the thought made him vaguely dizzy. 

“Come here, womp rat,” Din said gently, reaching down in the cradle. His hands closed around the Child’s soft middle and he began to pull back up--

The shriek of pain echoed through the small cabin for a mere second before being bitten back, but it was enough for Din to lurch away in dismay. “ _ Ad’ika _ ?”

The Child shuffled back into the cradle’s corner emitting soft noises of pain. 

Din nearly fell out of his chair in his haste. A second later he was crouched down by the Child, hands grasping out, stopping mere inches from his charge.

“You’re hurt!” Din felt like a fool for not anticipating this. The Child had been kidnapped and involved in the middle of a firefight. He’d used up a great amount of his power reserves. The infant was likely in intense discomfort at the very least. 

“I’ll be gentle, little one,” Din murmured. “But I need to take a look at you.”

This time when he went to lift the Child from his cradle, the infant only let out a low moan of protest, lips pressed so tightly together that Din worried he might bite straight through them.

“It’s alright,” he said desperately as he walked them both down to the cabin below. Little fingers gripped at Din’s hair. 

Din placed the Child onto the top of a barrel as carefully as he could. As soon as he was released, the infant shrank back into himself with a pained whine. 

“Let me see,  _ Ad’ika _ ,” Din told him sternly, hands moving to unwrap the dirty cloak from around the little green body. 

What lay below made the edges of the Mandalorian’s eyes fizzle out of focus. 

Mottled brown bruises ran up one side of the Child’s tiny frame and down his back. Against the bright green pallor of his skin, the injuries looked particularly gruesome. 

The Child’s hands crossed over his chest as though he hoped his guardian would not notice his distressing state. A single tear sparkled in one eye and slid slowly down his dirty cheek, leaving one minuscule line of clean green skin behind. 

Din’s rage was physically painful, leaving him braced against the wall as his ears seemed to close up and trap all outside sounds within his bones. It was far more excruciating than any physical ailment the Mandalorian had ever been through himself. This kind of mental anguish threatened to rob him of what little control he had left on his sanity.

_ You can’t do this right now. You can’t go to pieces. Ad’ika needs you.  _

That last thought circled about Din’s head as he felt his strength slam back into him as quickly as it had fled. His fractioning emotions left him dizzy in their wake.

“Let me see,” he told the Child firmly, reaching down to prize his arms away. Din traced a gentle finger down the mottled bruises and found to his surprise they were rather uniform. These didn’t come from simply being banged around on a bumpy trip. 

They resembled a fist.

“Those --” Din bit his tongue before he could delve into entirely inappropriate language. 

The Child moaned piteously and blinked wearily up at his guardian.

“Wait here,” Din told his ward before turning to dig through the barrels until he found the healing salve he always kept around. Moving forward, he would have to pay much closer attention to the state of their medical supplies. He could tough out many ailments but there were no chances to be taken with his kid. 

Returning to the Child’s side, Din popped open the container and dipped a finger into the foul-smelling cream. 

The Child cringed away at the smell and tried to clamber off the barrel. Din caught him gently and curled his hand around the Child’s middle so the infant was practically sitting in it. 

Staring up at him with those wide teary eyes, the Child let out a high whine of dismay. 

Stars, it killed the Mandalorian to be the one causing the infant’s distress. 

“I need to do this to make you feel better,” he said. “I promise it will be over soon and then you won’t hurt so much.”

The Child eventually quieted though he still leaned away from the Mandalorian’s touch.

Din knew he had to be careful. Infants didn’t always understand concepts like cause and effect or doing something now to help in the future. They could only project their feelings onto those who were in close proximity. 

The Mandalorian did not want the Child to associate him with pain. 

The salve was cool to the touch and the Child slowly settled under his careful ministrations, craning his head back to allow Din to reach all the ugly browned areas. 

Once he was done, Din quickly pulled the robes back over the Child. He couldn't stand seeing his failures painted across the baby’s skin.

He gently lifted his ward back into his arms and returned them to the cockpit. Quickly, he placed the Child in his cradle, nudging at the toys strewn around the bottom. It had been a hectic and bloody day. The Child likely wished to be alone, away from gripping hands and stern voices.

The Mandalorian busied himself at the controls, trying to decide on their heading and trying even harder not to think of the battered state of his ward. 

A few silent moments passed, the air thick with unusual tension.

Then --

“Ah, oh, ahhhhnuuu!”

The distressed call had Din back on his feet in a heartbeat, tensed for another disaster.  _ Hadn’t the pair hit their quota for the day? _

It only took one step to be back at the cradle’s side. Din looked down sharply at his charge, eyes skipping about the small space in desperation. 

There was no danger. Nothing out of place. Only a child reaching for the only source of comfort he’d known for many, many years. 

Din stared down at the Child at a complete loss for words. The Child was on his feet, arms stretched as high as they would go, gesturing at the man. Little fingers wiggled with the strain as the Child let out another pleading noise. 

Crouching down, Din swept the baby up into his arms. His own heartbeat finally began to settle.

_ Had the air been so thin just a moment ago? _

The Child gurgled happily and fit his little hands into the grooves of the Mandalorian’s armor. 

Din collapsed back into the pilot’s chair. One hand held the Child close with infinite care while the other covered his face. He heaved in a deep breath that shook on its way back out. 

He could still have this. He did still have this. 

The two traveled along an undeniably dangerous road. Din knew full well that his single, nearsighted decision to go back and save the Child could very well take his own life one day. 

That was alright. As long as he still had this, the shaking Child against his chest who acknowledged him as the one true source of comfort and family, the Mandalorian would never regret the course of their shared life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and/or kudo if you enjoyed! More to come


End file.
